Unauthorized Leave
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: Jane slips from FBI detention to make his way to Lisbon. Communication happens, heated in more ways than one. Takes place between 6x09 My Blue Heaven and 6x10 Green Thumb, but is still probably AU. Lengthy one-shot. Warning: Adult sexual situations. Don't read this if you don't like that stuff! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.


His nightmare began with the waking day. Insomnia just continued it in the dark when he should have been relieved of its conscious experience. Instead the long silent days became long silent nights in isolated detention, with only the window's light or darkness to distinguish which was which. There was virtually no break to the echoing silence. More than eighty days of it. No one visited except his jailors, stopping by to receive his regular refusal of their offers of indentured servitude.

Same suit. Same shirt. Same underwear. Same shoes with no socks to cushion the heavy leather that rubbed blisters and calluses on his feet. They reeked of sweat under the broken laces that could tie only the top holes. Every other night he would wash his underwear and shirt in the small stainless steel lavatory and hang them over the chair to dry. On those nights he was often cold as neither the one blanket nor the invariable temperature made any allowances. The food was passable but he ate as little as possible of it and grew thin. No one troubled about his comfort. Nor his nakedness. Nor his loneliness.

The room was hollow, heavy cinderblock under layers of industrial drab beige paint. Deceptively cavernous to sound, the bed and arm chair were insufficient to absorb the acoustic waves that bounced the walls and ceilings from the simple scrape of a shoe or turning the page of a book. The drip from the faucet to the metal sink kept slow regular time. They might as well have been hammer and anvil or Big Ben's clapper and bell, rending the silence, roughly every sixteen seconds even with the tap clamped as tight as it would go. Apparently, replacing its washer would have been coddling a prisoner by FBI detention standards. Luckily, it was the hot water tap that dripped. At least he always had hot water to hand and didn't have to wait for it to arrive from some cavernous boiler deep in the bowels of the building.

Sometimes he waited on the drip to count the seconds and minutes and hours away, let it mark his sleepless nights and endless days where he sat in the one chair to read or pretend to read. He was not like other men who might have been driven mad by the unending predictable monotony of unwanted sound. He used it to supplement his fairly reliable internal clock. For him, the intervening silence was more troublesome than the regular and expected arrival of the drips. He found himself waiting on them, relying on them.

The guard clearing his throat in the hall was an explosion in the silence that filled his room and stuffed the long hallways with interminable syncopated echoes in both directions. The silence was broken on occasion when the guard shifted quietly outside the door with the window on his privacy. He watched for the rotating men and women to peek in at him so that he could wave a cheery greeting and make them frown.

One hour a day he was taken to a small, enclosed yard to sample a slice of the day's weather. It was called his exercise period, but since he'd never done any of that before, he mainly stretched and paced the boundaries like any caged animal, listening for birds or insects that told him there was still a world with some life out there. It felt good to move around and breathe some fresh air, yet he grew a little weaker than he ought. Still, other prisoners used it and there was a selection of collectible detritus that he might put to some use.

So it was that he found himself with the means to unlock his detention cell door. His careful study of the routines and security procedures allowed him to put the one to his advantage in order to thwart the other. Patrick Jane began his journey to the state of Washington to find Teresa Lisbon. Always able to get money when he needed it, he began to eat as he wished and put on some needed weight. Never afraid of walking when he couldn't find a ride, he began to build up strength until eventually late one night he found himself at the door of her darkened house, feet blistered bloody, yet healthy and strong if somewhat shabby, having felt no need to see to the state of his clothes while he traveled rough.

He didn't want to break in, he really didn't, but it was so late and if at home, she was obviously asleep, so he did what he thought was best for her. He knew he had the right house and since a car was in the drive he assumed Lisbon was at home, but to be sure he tread quietly through the house to locate her.

He stepped noiselessly into her bedroom. The windows were open, the gauzy curtains catching light breezes that blew under the full moon in the night sky. In the darkness of the room, they created a muted strobe of shadow. The pale skin of her nude form illuminated the irregularly pulsating gray light, mocking the beauty of the moonlight with the palest blush of health radiating from the heat of her blood deep within.

She was sprawled haphazardly on the rosy sheets of the turned-down bed, one leg crooked to accommodate a hand, her fingers sunk into the cleft of her sex, stilled when an orgasm had apparently taken her off to sleep. It could not have been long ago as he could still see glistening moisture at the seam where her fingers lodged wetly against her labia. Her cheeks still carried the blush of passion, her parted lips plump with a cherry stain that gave him a vision of her writhing form, lips sucked in or bitten as she struggled to continue the stimulation that was destined to overwhelm and relieve her, deliver her to innocent slumber. Her hair fell on one side over her shoulder to her breast where a relaxed nipple peaked out. The other side fanned in waves over her pillow, that breast round and exposed as the full moon above, while along the crown of her forehead, the short new hair wisped out from her sweat-dampened brow. Her free hand lay palm-up, flung perhaps as her arm extended in the extremis of her release.

She was altogether beautiful, profound in his experience of her, her dark lashes a feathery shield against wakefulness. He didn't know how long he stood staring, breath suspended in a shallow meditation of experience, arousal so generalized it could not settle anywhere specific enough to be called sexual desire. Yet, every cluster of nerve endings was sexualized, pinpoints begging for touch, her touch. But he would not disturb her, not intrude by making her aware he knew of her magnificent immodesty because she would feel only her immodesty and not her loveliness. And so, as quietly as he had entered, he left to prepare a cup of tea in the moonlit kitchen and sip it quietly in the moon's reflection on the couch in front of the picture window. When he had drained the cup, he stretched like a large cat, settled himself on the couch and slept.

Lisbon padded out to the kitchen in the buff that Saturday morning, seeking coffee to scatter the sleep cobwebs and renew the assault on her freshly brushed teeth and minty breath. Having yet to brush her unruly fluff of hair, she needed stimulants to proceed with her toilette. As she left the kitchen, the couch creaked and she heard a stretching sigh just before a tousle of blond curls rose above the couch back. She'd recognize that mop of sleep-chaos anywhere!

"Jane!"

He huffed in surprise and turned to see his goddess of the night standing with her mouth open, a frown of irritation just curling across her brow.

"Lisbon!"

"Oh, you're surprised? What are you doing on my sofa?"

"I, uh, well I, uh, let myself in last night. I didn't want to disturb you." He stretched again, his face drawn in a grimace that pulled his eyes closed.

"You broke in. Very polite. What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's sort of a sabbatical."

"You escaped, didn't you?"

Not answering was Jane's best course of action and he stood up silently, eyes lowered.

"Well?"

She wasn't going to let it slide. "If it was you, Lisbon, you'd do everything you could to get away." He turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at her lack of understanding, much less her state of unconscious nudity. How could he explain to anyone what it was like to be isolated in a hollow cubicle for almost three months with no sign that anyone knew or cared? Just the memory of it filled him with pain and rage so deep it twisted something already injured inside that he didn't know how to heal.

Jane had yet to figure out it was something he could not heal himself because it was his intense state of utter isolation. Worse, it was layered in his mind with his general sense of unworthiness, particularly of the regard of others, and most particularly that of Teresa Lisbon. He strove for their admiration instead, a quest to always be the smartest in any room. At this he could succeed, be recognized and valued. However, it could never touch the deepest reaches of his need, the experience of which he deflected automatically and effectively by long habit. Unfortunately, it made most in relationship with him feel disconnected from him, more like objects in his universe than valued persons.

From the corner of his eyes he saw her breasts sway and he couldn't help glancing fully with a quick turn of his head, taking in the dark delta at the top of her thighs as he quickly dragged his eyes away. He could feel the heat in his face and the general sense of alarm throughout his body as he tried to tamp down his responses.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Lisbon." He raised his eyebrows at her a couple of times, trying to direct her attention without making his obvious, focusing his eyes somewhere past Hawaii, far over the Pacific.

"Jesus! Jane, I'm sorry!" She turned and ran, giving Jane a coveted view of a pair of fleshy globes bouncing tightly over strong, slim legs as she ran for cover. Her back and spine were exquisite, but if he had wished to see her shoulders, he would have had to forego the sight of the thick brunette waves bouncing towards her waist.

Lisbon had noticed his pained silence, so unlike the Patrick Jane she'd known over a decade. Throwing on a pair of cotton panties and a stretchy sports bra, she covered them with some soft knit clothing from a drawer. Something spiky lodged itself in her center and she recognized that she was worried about him. Something was off, and obviously very wrong.

"Damn it, Jane. I'm sorry you had to see that but it's your own fault for not telling me you were coming."

"I didn't do it on purpose, but I can't say I'm sorry for the sight, Lisbon. You're quite beautiful." He couldn't tell her that he had seen more, much more.

"Just shut up about it and let's move on. Can we do that?"

Never happen. "Sure. What do you want to know?"

"Why are you here?"

"I had to get away." He explained to her the character of his confinement.

"Jesus, Jane. That's horrible. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

His head was bowed and he spoke softly. "Why didn't you check on me? Call? Maybe write me?" He couldn't help but remind her that even though he had run from justice, and consequently from her for two years, he had at least found a way to write her and see that she received his letters. It should have been much easier for her to do the same for him. Something bitter filled his stomach and burned.

"I did, Jane! Fischer and Abbott would never tell me anything. They said you were in isolation and could have no visitors nor receive phone calls. I wrote you! The letters were turned back, unopened."

His eyes were wide and woeful as he looked at her. Her honesty and truthfulness were above question. It was hard to accept that a detainee, charged with nothing, could be held incommunicado indefinitely in America. But it had happened to him and he was paying dearly for the experience.

"They will look for you here, you know."

"Yes. It doesn't matter. If they own the rest of my life, I have no choice but to do what I need to. I had to see you. I was so . . . alone. You're my only . . . real . . . friend, you know."

"Jane! I'm more than that! We . . . our team, we're family! We have to care for and look after each other!" She looked at him thoughtfully. The man felt alone, unloved, that was clear. The truth was so different! "Fix yourself some tea. I'll be right back." She trotted into her bedroom and he could hear her rummaging through her dresser.

He was just pulling the kettle off when Lisbon appeared in the kitchen with a large brown envelope, stuffed with other paper.

"Sit at the table."

Carrying a cup and saucer, he dunked his tea with the other hand and sat down. Lisbon sat across from him and pushed the envelope to him.

"I, I thought about you every day, Jane. I wrote you at least every week. The letters all came back. I saved them for you, in case . . . well, in case, I mean, _when_, I got to see you again.

Peering into the open packet, Jane saw at least a dozen letters, perhaps fifteen, sealed and posted, marked "Return to Sender."

"Oh. I wish I'd had them, Lisbon. I would have felt so much better."

"You can have them now. But, Jane . . . don't read too much into them . . . I mean, just look over the parts that may seem too emotional. It was pretty distressing after not knowing where you were for two years, to be separated again and have my letters returned. At least I got yours."

"Emotional? They're emotional?"

"Some parts, yes." She looked at him quietly, concern painting her face. "You don't have to read them if you don't want." She reached for the packet to make it easy for him to give back if he wanted. But she found she was holding her breath, preparing for a mortal emotional blow if he did.

Instead he snatched it away from her reach, his mouth a startled "O" of dismay. "No! I mean, I want to read them, Lisbon. I want to know what you wanted to tell me. Thank you for saving them for me."

"Sure. I'm glad you have them now."

"If I have to go back, well, when I have to go back, will you continue to write me? Even if every one gets sent back? Maybe I'll be able to collect them again some day."

Lisbon got up and went to Jane, leaning over to hug his shoulders, pressing her cheek against his. "Of course I will, Jane. Of course! You're making me so sad . . . ."

"I'm sorry. Are you ready for some coffee? I'll make it for you. Just the way you like it."

"Yes, please. I'd love that. I'll make us some breakfast and you can start reading if you like."

"I hope you won't mind, Lisbon, but I do want to take the time to read your letters. They may not let me keep them to read after they catch up with me again. Can I leave them with you when I go? Will you save them?"

"Yes!" Tears gathered in Lisbon's eyes and she couldn't stop them from rolling down her cheeks. "I'd be glad to. I'm so sorry, Jane!" She ran to where he stood at the coffee maker and threw herself into his arms, sobbing. "I thought . . . I thought you'd be—free by now. It breaks my heart to think what you've been through."

He held her close, relishing how she overheated with emotion and dampened him wherever their bodies touched. Her tears were a hot stream at his neck, and she snuffled loudly into his ear. He turned to nuzzle her cheek, brushing the hair from the side of her face, so silky and thick. He loved how it felt in his hand.

"Lisbon! I've really missed you!" Jane wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up tight to his body.

She didn't hesitate to hug him back just as tightly, willing him to feel how much he was loved. He felt weak, defeated, so unlike the Jane she had known. "Come sit on the couch, Jane. Read your letters. I'll get my coffee and bring you some tea."

He did as she asked and she brought him a fresh cup of tea as he rifled through the envelopes to find the earliest postmark, breaking the seal carefully open without tearing the paper. He handled each sheet tenderly, feeling it crinkle against his fingertips as he unfolded the letter to reveal Lisbon's beautiful handwriting, trained by the nuns, no doubt. He read every word, savoring it and pretending that he had actually received it when it was sent.

_Dear Jane,_

_Life is very comfortable in my quiet little burg where the lack of staples or paper clips is often the most pressing problem of the day. It can get a little boring, for sure, after the kind of adventures we were used to, but it's a blessing not to have the acid and adrenalin eating holes in my body day after day, so I am happy._

_I hope you are doing well. It broke my heart to leave you yesterday, in the clutches of those cold, dishonest people. They have the power, so I hope you are learning to cope with that, even though I have the feeling it is they who must learn to cope with you. I hope you feel my smile here. But it is a sad smile._

_Please know that I don't regret anything that happened. I hold no grudges of any kind, my only concern being for your welfare and your quick release from confinement. However, Jane, what possessed you to make me a bargaining chip in your deal with the FBI? Without even talking to me first? You know I will not allow you to control me that way. This is not a grudge. And I am angry with you about it._

_Please. Just settle down and think about the deal they're offering you. It could all be over in five years. Five years will pass anyway._

_I wish you could visit me here. I think you would enjoy my house, my fireplace, the quiet and the beautiful natural setting where I live and work._

_Be well, my friend._

_Yours—_

_Teresa Lisbon_

Jane watched Lisbon for a moment as she finished lighting a fire and pulled the screen across the grate, brushing her hands together. The scent of pine began to warm the room with the heat of the blaze. She turned and smiled at him.

"Lisbon, thank you. It's such a beautiful letter. It would have made me so happy to receive it. But it's making me happy right now. Here." He used the hand with the letter to indicate his view from the couch. "In front of your fireplace. You're right. I do like it."

Smiling again, she stopped before heading to the kitchen. "You know I can't remember most of what I wrote now, Jane, but I'm glad it makes you happy. I tried to be as pleasant as possible. But really. Setting a condition that I give up my life here so that you can be a free man. What possessed you?"

Jane's smile was subdued. "I just wanted you to be happy. It was something I could do for you. I should have asked. But when?"

"We'll talk about it later. Don't think I'm not flattered. I know your intentions were good." She paused, changing subjects. "Let's get some food in you. How about some bacon, eggs and toast?"

"You don't know how good that sounds, Lisbon. I haven't had a really fresh, hot, home-cooked breakfast in three months. Thank you."

She stood with her mouth open for a moment, her eyes sad and then angry as she set her mouth in a grim line with a snap, then turned for the kitchen.

Jane continued through his letters. None were particularly lengthy, but all held gems that made him feel even belatedly more able to tolerate his isolated detention. No wonder Abbott and Fischer had not wanted him to receive mail, particularly from Lisbon, he imagined. It would have given him strength, hope. Things a jailor and manipulator wouldn't want in the heart of a prisoner they were trying to force to their will.

. . . _I find myself thinking about you a lot. I don't know why the evenings are the hardest. It's not like we ever spent much leisure time together. Maybe it's because when my mind is free to wander, it wanders to you._

_It seems I am trying to figure out what we meant, if anything, to each other. Did you care about me? About Teresa? Or was I just the pivotal stepping stone in your quest for revenge? Something you had to prime now and then to be sure it didn't crack or disappear when you needed it most? I don't have the answers. I guess that's not surprising since they would be your answers. I know I care about you more than I should. Is that cruel to say? Well, it's the truth._

_These letters are coming back to me, unopened. Are you doing that? I don't see what I have done that could have made you angry enough to do it, so I assume it is the FBI not allowing you mail. So, I will continue to write and save these for you, returned and unopened, in the hope that one day you will be able to collect them yourself. . ._

Lisbon called him to the table, where he wolfed down his breakfast gratefully, combining mouthfuls of the savory and cleansing his palate in between with fresh orange, sliced just right for a mouthful of cool juice.

"This is fabulous, Lisbon, thank you!" Swallowing the last of a cup, he smiled broadly at her over the rim. He gathered the dishes and carried them to the sink to rinse and load into the dishwasher. Lisbon joined him, taking care of what needed a basin of soapy water.

"You always meant something to me, Lisbon." He turned to her. "Something special. Something very personal. I always cared about you, Teresa, and still do."

Her eyes lowered shyly under her blush and a little smile played at her lips. "I'm glad. It's hard to tell sometimes."

Jane reached to hold both her elbows and gently pull her closer. "Then, let me show you."

As her face drew close, she turned it up to him, receiving a tentative kiss. When he started to pull away, she gripped his arms and kissed him more passionately, pressing him to open to her and rimming the inside of his lips with her small tongue when he did. Gasping, he captured her tongue and sucked the tip, bringing a moan from her before she sealed her lips to his for more. In a few moments, she pulled away, leaving them both breathless, smiling and in high color. Jane caressed the waves of her hair and returned to the dishwasher.

Lisbon nudged him with her elbow. "Go! Finish your letters. It's almost noon now. I'll bring you some wine in a minute. I'll finish up here."

He hugged her briefly on the run to the couch and his letters.

. . . _remembering what Sean Barlow said about me lying in bed thinking about you. It made a lump in my throat and I couldn't deny it. Because it was true. And you saw it was true. Why did you never say anything to me? I wanted to talk about it that time in the car, but you cut me off to tell me Bertram was on your list of suspects. I could have insisted, but I allowed you to distract me so that I could avoid something you clearly didn't want to discuss. I took it that you didn't feel the same._

_And now you turn up with me at your side as your top demand to the FBI. You want me to leave everything for you? What am I supposed to think? I hate that I might have missed so much . . ._

When Lisbon brought their wine, Jane motioned for her to set them together near him and opened his arm in gesture for her to sit in his embrace. It was a happy surprise for her and she scooted close as he draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in, kissing her temple before he turned to the next letter.

. . . _because I'm so lonely sometimes. There's not much "dating material" around here for me, but I try. I manage to have a good time, but I just can't get into the swing of things with anyone, if you know what I mean. I hope it wasn't the same for you. I hope you can meet someone who will love you as you deserve. Honestly, Jane, have I always been this stuck?_

_Sorry. Don't mean to turn you into "Dear Diary" in these letters, but since you're not getting them anyway, I guess it is like that._

_Missing you, friend—_

_Teresa_

Jane set his letters aside and turned to Lisbon. "I don't want to be confusing to you anymore."

She nodded without speaking, tears starting to run down her cheeks. Then she shook her head. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You have every right to cry. I've been a secretive, selfish, controlling son of a bitch, Lisbon, but I never did any of it to hurt you. I swear it."

"I've already figured that out. I was useful, I know. But you weren't trying to be cruel. Most of the time. I guess. But it hurt anyway."

Jane hung his head and shook it slowly from side to side. "I know there's no reason for you to have any confidence in me." He looked at her. "And yes, you were useful. So very useful. I have to thank you, Teresa." He softly stroked her cheek, but she didn't look at him. "I couldn't have found him, certainly couldn't have killed him without your help."

"And the team." She still spoke to her lap.

"Yes. And the team." He picked up her hand and tugged it, making her look at him. "But mostly you."

She nodded. "I'm glad, Jane. But that makes me be glad you killed someone."

"Not just someone. Red John. Prison wouldn't have worked."

"It's true. I know it is. Well. It's over. What difference does it make now? We have to move on."

"Very brave sentiments, Lisbon. What do they mean, exactly?"

"Here, Jane. My job. My life. Letting the past go so that I can move on."

"You didn't sound so happy with 'here' in your letters, or with any of the 'whos' around here either."

Lisbon had to snicker at that, remembering her futile dating attempts. "I dare you to find a woman to love here, Jane!" Too late, she realized what she'd said and looked sharply at him, blushing, eyes wide and biting her bottom lip. Jane gazed into her eyes, but made no move.

"Don't turn those big green eyes on me, Lisbon!" Jane snickered back at her. "Besides, I think I have my woman to love, here, in one visit."

Finally, Lisbon allowed her eyes to eyes dart aside, and she chucked her chin up as a signal: come on, I'm expecting you to kiss me. They both held their breath for a couple beats. Then, Jane opened both arms to her. She reached for him, too, and pressed the side of her face against his chest under his chin, savoring the strength of his embrace and listening to his heart hammer wildly as she gripped his back.

"Kiss me, Teresa," he whispered low against her ear, the vibration of his voice sending a thrill through her body. She did as he asked, holding nothing back. Finally overwhelmed, she raised up to put her chin on his shoulder and catch her breath, her breasts heaving just below his neck.

Jane felt the soft fullness of her pressing against him and unwrapped her arms so that he could unbutton her blouse, stroking and thumbing her over her clothes. When her cleavage was exposed, he nuzzled between her breasts, squeezing them to his face and then kissing the bare flesh as he removed her shirt. "I have to tell you something," he said, breathy between kisses.

She groaned in response, arching her neck and letting her head fall back, virtually placing her breasts into his hands, which he eagerly took. Her nipples were standing so tight, the fabric of her bra could not lay flush on her skin. Jane slipped his hands to her back, unfastened it and removed it, feasting on the sight of the globes he had glimpsed in the moonlight. Now he had two things to tell her. He tongued the nipples ravenously as Lisbon sighed and moaned in pleasure.

"What . . . what did you have to tell me, Jane?"

"Two things, now." He filled his mouth with her soft wonderful weight and sucked on a hard nipple.

"Ah! Start with one."

"One what?" He started on the other mound of succulent flesh.

"One thing you wanted to tell me."

He let the nipple pop softly from his mouth and looked up at her, lightly rubbing the tender skin below her ribs. Her eyes were dark with arousal as she looked at him with heavy lids. "I love you, Teresa. I have for a long time. I want you to know, so you don't ever have to wonder again." He watched both her nipples rise with the skin on her chest and arms and heard her gasp in surprise and pleasure.

"Do you know I love you, Jane?"

He looked at her expectantly. "You've never said it."

"I love you. I don't remember a time anymore when I didn't." Three of his shirt buttons popped as she struggled to undress him. He stilled her trembling hands and shed it quickly, barely dropping it to the floor before Lisbon had her breasts pressed against him, sighing in what sounded like relief. "Oh, oh, I've wanted to do that for so long." She didn't care that he smelled of dust and the road.

"Patrick," she whispered to herself, as if to imprint on her mind the reality of whom she touched. She traced the shape and form of his chest, his arms, his back as far as she could reach. Then she held his neck and brought his face to hers for a long, deep kiss.

Pressing her back, he made her arch against him as he bent to her. "We need to be more comfortable."

"Come with me to bed, Jane."

"I'd love to, but I need a bath first. I really do."

"Of course! I didn't mean to be so thoughtless. You need to relax from traveling. I'm sure it was very hard."

"Not all of it." He lifted his pants legs to show his bare ankles. "My feet got the worst of it. When I had to walk long distances, I sure wished for socks."

"You still don't have socks? Why? And why do you still have the same clothes? Is that all you have? Didn't they issue you something to wear? What the hell, Jane?" A rising anger colored her face and her voice as each question brought new ones to mind.

"Hey, calm down. I don't know why, and I wouldn't ask. I assume it was part of the therapeutic treatment. I just made the best of it."

"It's so wrong, Jane! How could they treat you that way?"

"When they've got you locked up indefinitely without charge, in isolation, I guess they can do any damn thing they want."

"Here. Give me your suit. I've got a dry cleaning kit. I'll do it for you while you soak in the tub. You would like a good soak, wouldn't you?"

"Are there bubbles?" He grinned comically, but Lisbon could tell by his eyes that he really wanted a bubble bath.

"Of course! I have several. Just take your pick from the shower caddy."

Jane removed his pants and handed them to her with his jacket.

"Nice legs!" she teased.

"I'll have something nicer for you later." He smiled and winked at her, not hiding the heat in his eyes.

Lisbon looked at the rising bulge in his briefs. "Okay. Down, boy. Give me your shoes, too. I'll see what I can do with them. You can put the finishing touches on them later."

Lisbon gasped when she saw the condition of his feet when he removed his shoes. "Oh, Jane! They're so torn up!" She knelt to examine them carefully one by one as he balanced with a hand on her shoulder. "There are open sores here! Your feet are so beautiful! It hurts to see them like this. I don't think there's any infection, though. A good soak is just what they need." When she stood, he saw tears in her eyes.

Kissing her gently, he tried to soothe her. "They will be fine. I've lived with them this long—"

"It's _not _fine! But I'll make them fine. After you soak awhile, I'll tend them."

"I have to warn you. They're very sensitive to a woman's touch."

She laughed, remembering his attempts to get her to ask him about foot fetish on a case they had worked. "Now, why doesn't that surprise me? But if you bring up turtlenecks again, I won't be gentle!" She pinched a tuft of hair from his legs to show him she could sting.

"Ow! I haven't said a word!"

"I owed you payback!"

"Jeez, Lisbon, I didn't know you nursed grudges!"

She looked at him smugly before she turned away with his clothes and shoes. "Well, now you do."

After she started the dryer with his suit, Lisbon picked up Jane's shirt and went to check on him in the tub. Knocking quietly, she called, "You decent in there?" smiling.

"Funny, Lisbon. Come in! There's plenty of bubbles to hide everything . . . .unless you want to see," he added when she poked her head in. "Oh . . . you put on a shirt." He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout as he scanned the front of her shirt and broke into a sudden smile. "No bra, at least!"

"Mmmmmm. You smell like a snickerdoodle! I see you found the cinnamon vanilla bubbles. I'm here for your underwear. Jeez, Jane! I think you need a new pair!"

"That's all I've got."

Looking stricken for his sure misery, Lisbon said nothing but grabbed the worn, dingy scrap of clothing. "Your shirt's not much better."

"I wash them both every other night!"

"What's wrong with those people, Jane?"

"They're used to getting their way. Cheer up! At least I haven't been waterboarded!"

"So not funny." She left with his clothes, returning shortly to take care of his feet.

They were warm and pink from the hot water, dripping a foam of bubbles when he lifted them for her to inspect. Small streaks of blood dripped with the water in places, but they already looked much better pink and clean. She trimmed and cleaned, holding one foot at a time on top of her thigh as she sat on the edge of the tub. She even clipped his toenails. Before long she was damp everywhere and soaked in many places, but it made her happy to take care of his poor feet. When they were as good as she could get them, she decided to give them a good massage.

Having been busy with Jane's feet, she hadn't actually looked at him in awhile. Now that she was in the middle of a massage, she finally looked at his face. His eyes were closed and his head rolled back. He was breathing through his mouth and moaning so low it was at the edge of her hearing as his hands squeezed rhythmically under the water. She knew what he must be doing, but said nothing. He had warned her, after all. His eyes were barely slits when he opened them as she shifted position and saw her looking at him.

"Oh, god, Lisbon. I'm sorry, but if you're going to do that, I can't just lie here and take it!"

"Just pretend I'm a podiatrist."

"I can't. It's you, and I don't want to pretend anything away about this."

He was serious. He wanted to be as hot as she would make him. Lisbon's expression softened as she allowed herself to feel his desire and his urgency. The thought of him under her sexual power fired her core and when she looked at him next, it was deep and solemn, a wicked smile curling her lip. "All right then. I won't stop until I make you scream and spray the walls!"

Jane groaned and held himself tighter. "That's the spirit, Lisbon!"

She proceeded with a tender assault on the muscles and sinew of his feet, turning them, and him, into loose, warm, pliable putty. Far from ejaculating on the shower walls, Jane became a large sleepy kitten, mewling and humming and sighing in a limp sudsy heap in Lisbon's bathtub. His limbs moved only as Lisbon positioned them and he was kept from drowning only by fact of his height not allowing his nose to sink below the waterline. Despite her devilishly delivered promises, Lisbon warmed to her task and conducted a massage, not a seduction.

Lisbon left him to finish his soak while she retrieved and hung his suit and transferred shirt and underwear to the dryer. Meanwhile, she managed to find her iron, pressed the jacket lapel and sleeves and put a crease in the trousers. "This guy is gonna owe me big time," she muttered as she put everything away, aware of arm and shoulder muscles she didn't know she had, introduced to her by the iron and the strength she put into Jane's foot massage. Each time she looked at his shoes, she huffed in exasperation, not having the first clue what to do with them.

Jane came from the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist. He looked magnificent to Lisbon, a deep pink heat blush in his skin. His wide chest made her hands itch to touch it, follow the lines of his abdomen that led to the groin and a sizeable enticing bulge below. And when he passed her for the couch and fire, she followed the gorgeous line of his long back, tapered into slender hips and a round bottom held high.

"You're ogling, Lisbon."

"N-no, I . . . "

"I have nothing else to wear."

"I don't m-mind. Uh, weren't you coming to bed with me?"

"Let me warm by the fire and gather my strength." He smiled at her, loving her flush and the waves of her hair, coiled in places by humidity and hard work. "Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?" He winked.

"Sure. Rest up on the couch. You'll need your strength." She snickered.

When she brought his cup, she sat down and allowed him several sips before scooting close. "Mmmmm. You smell like a tasty cookie."

"Come have a bite of me—" He drew her close for a kiss. Then, remembering where they were before his bath, he drew her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, giving his full attention to the aroused and eager woman in his arms. Her hands skimmed him everywhere, light and inquisitive at first, but growing possessive and demanding, raising his nipples as she thumbed and then feasted on them and made her way to his neck, his ears and then his lips.

By this time, she was straddling him, rolling his erection against her clothed sex, the toweling a little harsh on his sensitive skin. He backed her away and fingered loose the fastenings of her pants. Eager to get out of them, she stood up and took everything off, then bent over him to open the towel. He watched her breasts flow forward as she moved, the sight converted into a rush of blood to his now rigid erection. His entire body thrilled as she exposed him, to gasp and smile with pleasure at his solid and beautifully formed male flesh.

When she held out her hands, he took them and she tugged him up, leaving the towel and her clothes where they lay, and started to guide him to her bedroom. Distracted by her full hips and succulent behind, he stopped her to fondle it intensely, planting himself at her back and kissing her shoulders from behind. She turned her head to demand he kiss her mouth and, wrapping his hands to fondle her breasts, he gave her as much as she could take before she broke for breath. Then, she lifted a leg to place her foot on the couch cushion and bent to brace her hands on its solid arm, looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes dark and sultry, cheeks aflame and mouth plump and red with their kisses.

Jane watched as Lisbon bent further, opening herself to him, offering herself from behind, firelight flickering along her freckled body. He sighed, "Oh, Lisbon!" and pressed his chest to her back to kiss and taste the soft flesh of her neck with his tongue, salty from her labor for him. She cried out and shivered, pushing her hips further towards him. Placing one hand on her waist, he used the other to fondle and learn her most intimate parts, soft and wet and yielding. There was the turgid nub that made her back arch like a strung bow, calling out with breath like the sweetest notes, her throat and lungs wide open and saying his name.

He wanted to take her the first time in a soft bed, tenderly and face to face. But he couldn't refuse her primal request right there where she made it. In fact, she made him want what she wanted, made him desperate for it. He lodged himself at her entrance, the heat of her making him weak and, setting his cheek next to hers, he groaned, "I'm going to give you what you want now." She moved her hips to capture him, sliding him a little further in, and he pushed the rest of the way with a loud huff. Then he held her hips tight and began pumping hard.

She was lush inside, full, soft and tight at the same time, drawing him to an insanity of instinct. He leaned back, angling his hips to take her deeper, thrusting with so much power that he lifted her to her toes. She came with a low wail, wavering as he pushed through her rhythmic clenching. Reaching a hand around her small body, his fingers found the swollen knot standing tight and he rubbed it vigorously with two fingers, relishing the feel of her until she began to quake in a new release. Then it was he who was overwhelmed as his own climax thundered through his cock, filling her until they both dripped, sharing a pounding heartbeat.

With an arm around her waist, Jane pulled her back to sit on him still joined, recovering on the couch. After a few minutes, Lisbon got up, separating them. Kissing him, she took his hand and led him to resume their journey to her bed where they kissed and touched and held each other quietly for a while until Jane spoke.

"There's something else I need to tell you. About when I came in last night, looking for you."

Lisbon stopped kissing him long enough to look into his eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"It was late. I didn't want to wake you."

"Mmmm-hmm."

"But mostly, I didn't want to startle you and get shot."

She smiled impishly. "You're lucky I didn't hear you, or you might have been!"

"Yes . . . well . . . when I came in last night, you had fallen asleep on your bed." Jane closed his eyes, cherishing the memory of her, then dropped his head. "Please don't make me tell you how I found you. It's such a private, beautiful memory for me. I don't want it spoiled by a conversation of shame or embarrassment. Please, Lisbon."

Confused for a moment at what he could have seen, she suddenly remembered how she had soothed herself to sleep the night before. She stiffened and gasped, instinctively pulling away, but Jane held her, slowly lifting his head and opening his pleading eyes.

"Oh," she said softly.

She started to say sorry, embarrassed, but he lifted his hand and placed a finger gently on her lips, his other arm still gripping her tightly and holding her close. Looking into his eyes, Lisbon relaxed, reminding herself that they had just made rather feral love and that she was now lying naked in his arms, her breasts pressed to his chest, his steely erection so close that with a dip of his hips he could impale her.

"I was thinking of you." She watched his eyes water before he simply touched his forehead to hers, breathing heavily as if his had just been taken somehow.

"How could you . . . ? I've done nothing but let you down, hurt you . . . for so long."

She kissed his forehead, then the tops of his cheeks where tears were falling, tonguing the salty rivulets into her mouth before they could flow away. "I don't think love works like that, Patrick."

When he heard his first name fall from her lips as part of her second declaration of love, a declaration that contained simple and pervasive forgiveness, something huge and unconscious unwound from his belly, filling both chest and groin. It was a release, like an orgasm, but more complete, its source not so localized. It took control of his body and freed Lisbon from his hold. She pulled slightly away, watching as his back arched and he seemed to draw breath to his toes and empty it out the same way, newborn and filling his lungs full for the first time in many years. Tears still poured from his closed eyes, past wet lashes and down his cheeks, but he smiled.

Lisbon watched her own hands as she brushed his chest and shoulders tenderly, feeling the smooth skin laid over firm muscle and heavy bone. Her fingertips played at his nipples, pinching them lightly between thumb and forefinger, feeling the tender flesh rise and stiffen.

Whatever had taken hold of Jane emptied him out completely. When his breathing had returned to normal, Lisbon found that he had fallen asleep, still smiling, and that his breath seemed to carry a contented sigh each time he exhaled. The pillar between his legs had fallen asleep, too, lolling across his pelvic bone, soft and sweet, pink and surely feigning innocence. She kissed his cheek tenderly, brushed curls from his forehead, drew covers over them both and wrapped her arms around his chest before resting against him, the happy flesh that felt his along the full length of her body singing her to sleep.

When Jane awoke, the room was shifting shadow in the light of the same moon that shone on Lisbon the night before. Only here she was, snuggled asleep in his arms under the covers, both of them naked. Not her words, but the realization of her love for him had undone a knot of tension, even fear, that had been a part of his life, even of his body sense, as far back as he could remember. But now he felt relaxed and loose, free somehow, the source of his happiness the woman now sleeping in his arms.

She had been thinking of him, her fingers buried when orgasm had stilled her and taken her to sleep! He longed to place his fingers there, soon his lips, to kiss her into new oblivion! He lowered his hand to brush the soft dark hair at the vee of her thighs.

A tiny stiffness momentarily stilled his exploring fingertips, where he toyed with a tuft at the apex, gelled with the moisture of her want from their fervor in the night, before he had drifted away. The vision of Lisbon naked on her bed filled his mind as his heart began to pound, his mouth watering as he woke her, whispering into her ear, "Oh, Teresa, I want to kiss you here!" He brushed lightly at the cleft of her sex, a plea.

Waking in Patrick's arms to his lusty whispered words was the stuff of dreams and Lisbon was not sure she was awake. She touched his face and brushed her fingers on his lips, feeling warm flesh, stubble and tender puckering kisses on her fingertips.

"Do you want to pinch me?"

"Isn't it customary for me to pinch myself to see if I am awake?"

"Go right ahead." He smiled and kissed her forehead.

"No. I don't think I want to wake up." Her brow wrinkled over a deep blush as she felt his fingers softly invade her.

Loosening his hold to let her fall back a little, he kissed his way to her breasts and soon she moaned a low sigh. His tongue was warm and agile and his mouth closed perfectly around the most sensitive parts of them, pulling and teasing, suckling and twirling. His deft fingers between her legs made her move with him, her hips fluid and demanding. A sweet honey pressure built in her groin. She opened her legs so that he could put his long fingers inside, exploring until he found a place that made her pant when he rubbed there. She was already arching when he removed his fingers and impaled her, a swift thrust that carried him in to the hilt and had her groaning in rhythmic relief before he could repeat it. He felt her orgasm wrap him in warm taffy, drawing him to the edge of release, but he would not go. Instead he soothed her with his hand and kissed the side of her face as her breathing returned to normal. He pulled out, still hard.

"Oooohhhhh. I could wake up like this every day." Lisbon relaxed, her eyes closed.

"Mmmm. If only." He flicked lightly at her still-erect nipples, watching them tighten even more. This was a woman who could take a lot of sex, probably wanted it. He felt a little ashamed that he hadn't met her needs all these years. Would she have accepted him? He thought he would have been able to win her. If he had tried. But his life hadn't been like that. Another price she had paid for knowing him. At least he could make up for it this morning. Before he had to leave.

"Shower, Lisbon?"

"Big walk-in downstairs."

"Sounds perfect for two."

Lisbon opened her eyes when she felt him get out of bed and saw his still-aroused condition. "I think you've got ideas for the shower."

They soaped in the steam, the warm animal scent of their lovemaking from the night before rising with the vapor. Lisbon wrinkled her nose. "We needed this shower!"

"I love that smell. It's you and me, joined to create life."

"But I'm on the p—"

"Doesn't matter. That's what making love is for. The heavenly pleasure of it just makes us do it."

"I do it because . . ."

"Yes, why?"

"Because I love you."

"I know. I love you, and that makes me want to mate with you." He kissed her hard on the lips, and ground his rock-hard cock against her belly, laughing.

"But you can 'mate' with someone you don't l—"

"No more philosophy for now! I'm talking about you and me, nothing else."

Lifting the detachable showerhead, Jane fondled her breasts as he cascaded water over them, lifting to wash any soap from underneath. Then he pushed her firmly against the wall and used his knees to part her legs, bringing the showerhead down to rinse between them. "I've been wanting to taste you since I woke up." He looked at her with a wicked grin. "I'm going to get you dirty all over again!"

Using his fingers to open her, he directed the water where he wanted, then let the showerhead dangle as he knelt and started to kiss her, spreading her to make way for his wide tongue. Soon Lisbon slanted her hips so that he could reach more of her, forcing herself into an awkward stance to balance. Jane splayed a hand under her ribs, pressing to anchor her back securely to the wall as he laved every surface, inside and outside, of her swollen lips. Finally, she cried out, her hips in spasm and he licked her until the slippery moisture of her orgasm lay on his tongue.

When he kissed her again, she wrapped her legs loosely at his hips and clasped his shoulders. "I want you inside me."

He positioned her and she slid like soft wax down a hot poker, working her hips to angle him deeper. Her eagerness drew him to the edge like fire to tinder and when he felt his testicles draw up, he wanted nothing but to pound into her until he was spent. But he drew out and turned her around, pulling her hands up and slapping them above her head on the tile wall, feeding on her frustrated moan. Squeezing himself with one hand, he trembled with an excitement that yammered low in his spine, wanting release. With the other hand, he separated her legs.

"You like it from behind, Teresa?

"You make it sound so dirty."

He was at her ear, his voice a low growl. "I asked you a question. You should answer." He rubbed the head of his penis into the soft hot wet that was her core.

She gasped and moved with him. "Yes. I like it that way."

"Show me. Make it easy for me. Like you did last night."

She widened her stance further and jutted her ass toward him.

Separating her cheeks and picking up her slick with his fingers, he slid them gently across the bud of her opening, making her sigh, but also flinch as he worked a little deeper at each pass.

"Please don't go into me there. It will hurt."

"I won't. We'll save that for another time. And believe me. When I go into you there, it won't hurt. I'll make you feel wonderful there. I promise. I'll listen to you, and I won't force anything."

He frowned, thinking how it must have been for her. Men she might have been with looking to take their pleasure from her rather than give her pleasure. Hurting her with clumsy attempts to force their way into her tender flesh instead of making love to her even there. Now she was afraid. But he knew she wouldn't be afraid of him if she grew curious and adventurous. He would take very good care of her. Gently, as he had been taught. Thinking about her that way, talking to her about it, made Jane want to show her how good he could make her feel there, right then.

But he wanted inside her swollen warm sheath more. And she wanted him there! She reached a hand down for his hip, to pull him closer, but he caught it and slapped it lightly back on the tile where he had placed it. "You're going to need that hand to hold on, Lisbon." Jutting her hips at him again, she wiggled them and whined in frustration.

This time, Jane knew the angle she needed and, holding tight to her hips, he slid his rigid flesh deep inside her, twisting and pushing for even more until he found the bottom of her. She made a slight sound of discomfort.

"Sore?"

"Yes, a little. It's just been, well, a long time since . . . "

Jane kissed the back of her neck. "Oh. Me, too. I'll go easier."

"No! I want you deep!"

"Then I'll just go deep and easy, Teresa." He moved in her some more. "How's that? Better?"

"Oh, yes! It feels like a massage, a deep wonderful massage." She started to pant as he continued to stroke into her, pressing and holding deep each time. "And I really need this massage . . . "

"Good. So do I. I love how you're squeezing me back, so full and hot and strong. I'm can come any time now, you make me feel so good." His brow was sweating as he saw the flesh rise at her neck. So lightly, he brushed with his lips, raising it further. "Do you want to come?'

"Will you put your fingers on me?"

"Where?"

"In front. I want you to play with me and ride me and make me come so bad, Patrick. You don't know how much!" Her voice caught and her breath was all want.

"Then, that's what I'll do." He began to slide two fingers back and forth astride the excited nub at the top of her sex. He could feel himself pushing it from the inside with each stroke into her, feel the suction as he drew out. "I love you so much, Teresa. And I want to fuck you hard. I want to rub you here and ride you just like you asked."

"Yes! I want everything! Now! As hard as you want!"

It was a fiery ride for both of them, full of friction, heat and desperate desire, physical to be sure, but also emotional as they joined themselves together. Neither wanted it to end. Finally, Lisbon stopped moving and pulled herself flush to the shower wall, breathing heavily and resting her cheek on the cool tile. Jane pulled out of her, half-expecting to see steam rolling off his swollen and elongated flesh. He felt hard enough to be brittle and shatter. A slick bead of moisture dripped steadily from the plump crimson head. He grunted in pain and his lungs forced air like a bellows.

"Teresa," he managed to get out, "am I hurting you?" He kissed the back of Lisbon's neck and laid his forehead against her hair.

She turned, her face ablaze with passion and heat. "No. I want to finish face to face. I want to see you when you come inside me, Jane."

He smiled and kissed her. "So nice. I want to see you, too."

She jumped into his arms, bracing with her knees and feet, sinking onto him. But instead of finishing in the shower stall, Jane pushed open the door and raced with her to the bedroom, losing her when he let her drop to the mattress, but rejoining her body immediately. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Lisbon slid her sweet flesh on him, pressing him deep inside as she moved with fluid hips to capture the length of him, over and over. His eyes shone as he looked into the depths of hers, both of them smiling and breathing each other's breath.

Suddenly, Lisbon's pupils flared, her eyes so dark and deep that Jane could barely see a rim of green. She threw her head back and arched her body against him, her mouth round. Jane moved to keep eye contact and she smiled at him as her mouth opened in rhythmic groaning notes of release. As her body squeezed him with its contractions, she smiled wider and seemed to encourage him with her eyes, her face glowing under Jane's look of adoration. His breath caught and his hips jerked hard as he buried deep and held himself there, grunting softly through smiling lips as his orgasm pumped into hers and he felt alive for himself and through her at the same time.

"Lisbon!" Jane was overwhelmed and moved to taste the juncture of her neck and jaw, sucking hard and scraping lightly with his teeth, raising a mark almost instantly.

She called out the thrill of his bite, arching again and moving her hips. "More!" she whispered and he met her demand as she came again before he lost steel and they relaxed into each other, whispering tenderness until deep night, when they curled together under the covers and slept.

Lisbon was in the kitchen when Jane awoke, wearing a tee shirt and panties. Her eyes were sad behind her happiness to see him because she knew it would not be for long. Coming up behind her, Jane turned her and held her with passionate kisses for several minutes, hoping he could chase the sadness away. But he knew reality wouldn't allow it. He broke from her with shadows still in her eyes.

Jane spotted his suit hanging and fished his underwear and shirt out of the dryer and managed to get his briefs on before she spoke to him.

"Tea?"

He turned to watch her. "Yes. I've got time for a cup." There was a slight freeze in her movements, barely detectable, and then her shoulders drooped. "You're leaving."

"Very shortly, yes."

She spun and faced him, her eyes with a fell light that startled Jane into stillness, his mouth dropping open. "Will it be five years this time? Another two? Just one? Will I get sweet letters from an unknown location?" Lisbon broke down sobbing and dropped the plate in her hand. It shattered at her bare feet.

"Teresa! No! What are you thinking?" Jane rushed to her, signaling that she should stand still. She was lost in her pain anyway. He picked her up at the ribs like a child, sailed her over the broken china and she curled her limbs around his torso, clinging tight and weeping loudly into his ear and wetly onto his neck.

"Calm down." He tried to loosen her hold so that he could see her face and talk to her, but she only gripped him tighter and wailed louder.

"You're running away again! I won't see you! What am I supposed to dooooooo?"

"No. No. Sweet girl. Don't cry. I'm not running away. I'm going back to detention."

Her scream threatened to shatter his eardrum! "Nooooooooo! They'll throw you in prison! They'll take you away from me forever! They'll kill you!" She was inconsolable.

Sitting in a kitchen chair, he managed to balance them with her straddling his lap. She was hot and sweaty and altogether pitiful and loveable and in that instant his resolve floundered as he failed to see how he could ever leave her. But he had to go back. For her. For himself. To give them a chance at a life together.

"Teresa, no. They're not going to do any of those things. I promise." He had to wait several minutes for her sobbing to subside into sullen hiccups. "I'm too valuable to them."

She looked at him with utter disgust at his pomposity.

"It's true! I know you can't imagine anyone else but you thinking I would be worth the trouble . . . "

"Then why are you in detention? If you're so valuable, why aren't you free?"

"Oh, they're still haggling over terms."

"What about you?"

"I'm not haggling. Abbott signed my deal. And that's the deal. They'll come around. And soon. Then we can be together."

"How?"

"We'll figure it out."

"You say 'we,' but you mean 'you.'"

He wanted to comfort her in the worst way, but he had no idea how the situation would develop and he didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep. Lisbon would hate that worse than anything. He wanted to distract her, make her feel better since he couldn't solve the problem that worried her.

"Do you want a quickie before I go. Would it make you feel better?"

"No. I don't think I could handle that right now." She started to cry again. "I know I'm going to regret it the minute you're gone, but I just can't."

"It's okay, Lisbon. Maybe we can think of a way to make dirty phone calls to each other. Or, I'll write you dirty letters. Only you have to write me dirty ones back!"

The chuckle almost choked her, but he heard it and sought her lips for a kiss to reassure himself as much as her. He didn't expect it to set them alight. He held her into the kiss and couldn't let her go, his blood at instant boil, his body remembering every second of what it was like to make love to her. He was straining his underwear with a massive hard-on that sprang up so quickly, he felt light-headed.

When Lisbon felt his hard cock suddenly press between her legs, her core started to tingle and then burn. All she could think of was getting on him as quickly as possible. She started to claw at his waistband. Jane stood up quickly, taking her with him and let her cling like a monkey to a tree as he pulled his briefs down, kicked them away and sat down again. While she wedged her toes onto what they could grip of the chair seat corners, he spread his legs and lifted her high enough to position himself to enter her. Neither was prepared for the intense sensation and urgency that exploded as she slid onto him. He spread his legs further so that she could lower her bottom onto the chair seat to maximize the penetration. They found that neither of them could move in this position!

Jane groaned loudly and got up, pushing things off the table to lay Lisbon down. So much better! He could reach her breasts while he drilled into her hectically. She searched for a place to settle her legs. Finally he slipped his arms under them, pulling her hips so that her bottom hung off the table and he could use the force of his thrusts to ram her clit. Lisbon responded quickly. There was nothing graceful about their frenzy for each other, but they were soon satisfied, Lisbon rocking in an orgasm that set her muscles into a painful clench while Jane hammered his last, grunting with the effort and then almost shouting with his release. They lay panting and sweating on the kitchen table.

This time it was Jane who started to cry, big whooping sobs for what he had missed, what he had given up and what he was now leaving again. Lisbon tried to hold him, give him some comfort as he lay on her, but his back was hurting in their position. He separated them and paced the kitchen, repeatedly holding his head and the sides of his face with both hands, bending over when the grief became too much. Lisbon caught up with him, hugging his back to stop the pacing and then turning him around. His face was a mask of pain, and her heart nearly broke looking at him. She hugged him tight, tears running down her face, too.

"It's all right, Patrick. It's going to be all right. We're going to be all right. You said it wouldn't be much longer. Remember?"

She was nearly shouting to get through to him, but finally he lowered his arms and stood helplessly sobbing as she kissed his chest and managed to lead him back to a kitchen chair. Gently pushing him to sit down, she got back in his lap and snuggled her head into the crook of his neck, nuzzling his face.

Jane wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and saying her name over and over. Several minutes passed before he calmed enough for Lisbon to leave his lap and tiptoe around the broken china that still lay on the floor in front of the sink. But she managed to find a soft towel and moistened it with warm water to clean and soothe Jane's face, and then her own. He got up, his chest still heaving in recovery, put on his clothes and slipped his feet, still without socks, into his beat-up shoes. Lisbon threw her tee shirt and panties back on.

He stood at the front door and held his arms out and Lisbon ran into them, determined not to start crying again. Jane's face was blotchy and swollen and she was sure she looked the same.

"I love you, Teresa. This has been the best day of my life in so very long. Thank you for loving me."

"I do love you, Patrick. So much. I believe you. I believe in you when you say it's almost over. I'll wait to hear from you, wait for dirty phone calls and dirty letters. They can't come fast enough. And I'll write you back the filthiest letters you ever received! I promise."

"They won't let me write or call. And they won't let me get your letters or calls either."

"Write them in your books and bring them with you. I'll save my letters and record my phone calls and you can listen to them all when you come back! And we'll read the letters out loud to each other and we'll get so horny that we'll make love all the time."

She was desperate to give him hope. And when he looked at her and heard her eager promises, he couldn't help but hope for the future when he could come back to her.

Jane laughed. "Promise?"

"Of course I promise!"

"I have to admit. That would be a pretty good homecoming!"

They shared a last long kiss.

"Do you need anything to take with you? Money? A bottle of water? Anything? I wish I had some socks that would fit your big pretty feet."

"I don't need anything. I'll be fine." He put a hand on the door knob. "They'll be contacting you. Just tell them I'm on my way back."

"I will. I'll see you soon."

"See you soon, Lisbon. And don't forget my letters and phone calls!" He winked.

"And don't forget my letters. They'll be even better, knowing you had to write them in secret in your books."

Jane left without looking back. Lisbon had no idea what his plans were for returning to Texas, but she had no doubt about his ability to get wherever he wanted to. She was sad, but she made a strong cup of coffee, got out pen and paper and started her first dirty letter ever, to Patrick Jane.


End file.
